


TLC

by spoowriterfic



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28420329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoowriterfic/pseuds/spoowriterfic
Summary: Nicole wakes up one morning to find that Waverly's developed bronchitis. Mostly fluffy hurt/comfort ensues.Note: this is set about six weeks after 406, so just be aware of that. There aren't really any big spoilers, other than a reference or two to that last scene and the aftermath of the earlier parts of the season.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 8
Kudos: 121





	TLC

**Author's Note:**

> I'd been stuck on this when I got a lovely comment on one of my older stories, "The Flu," asking about a story exploring how Waverly would react to being the one who was sick. So while this isn't strictly speaking a sequel, it does follow "The Flu" in spirit (also, apparently I can't think of clever titles for stories where my characters are sick).
> 
> Note: in this story, Waverly ends up with bronchitis. While it is not COVID-19, that might be an uncomfortable set of symptoms for some so just be aware of that. Honestly, I almost made her have the stomach flu instead but, uh, I didn't want to write that much about vomit?

She woke to an empty bed.

Adrenaline spiked through every cell in her body and, for a split second, no amount of forced rational thought would help.

No amount of noticing (of deliberately _looking_ for) the disheveled sheets and extra blankets on Waverly’s side of the bed.

No amount of running her fingers across the cover of her discarded book on the side table to make sure it was really there. Untranslated Latin. Unequivocally _not_ Nicole’s. But it didn’t matter.

No amount of looking at the picture Rachel had snapped of them kissing in front of the fire just after she’d said yes to Waverly’s proposal, which had replaced the framed picture of Waverly that she’d woken up to for a year and a half.

For a few awful, endless seconds, none of it – _none_ of it – could convince her that the last six weeks had been anything but a dream that had just been snatched away from her.

Again.

She’d grown up with nightmares; she was used to them.

But, damn, it had been hard to adjust to the kind that started out as the best dream imaginable only to turn, devastatingly quickly, into nightmares worse than anything she’d experienced before – because they weren’t _scary_. There were no demons. No fires – not even imaginary ones invented by her subconscious after hearing her parents parrot BBD’s cover for the massacre. No screams. No blood.

So, no, they weren’t terrifying. They were just horribly, unbearably _sad_.

And then she heard, or realized she heard, two things at once: she heard Wynonna yelling something about medicine and the sound of someone coughing loudly in the bathroom against the backdrop of the shower running.

She felt vaguely ashamed of the wave of relief that crashed over her when she realized that Waverly was very much there, if obviously sick, but she tried to push both feelings aside as she called back to Wynonna, “On it!”

Assuming ‘it’ was ‘take care of Waverly while I go get medicine,’ but since she hadn’t actually processed what Wynonna had said, that was admittedly an assumption on her part.

She stopped to get the robe Waverly had eschewed for some reason, then took a breath, readying herself for a potential argument. They hadn’t had one since her return, and in truth the idea of arguing with her when her mere presence was, in a very literal sense, a dream come true, made her flinch internally.

But Waverly was…not a good patient.

And she clearly needed care.

She was stuck between a sick rock and a very determined hard place.

Nicole did understand why it was hard for Waverly to accept support or care – she really did. Probably more clearly than Waverly herself did. And not just because it was equally hard for her too.

She’d had a lot of time to think, after all. To puzzle over every moment of their relationship, to examine each and every memory from all angles. To ferret out every bit of memory and understanding she could – both to keep herself sane and to keep Waverly’s voice both alive and, more importantly, _accurate_ in her head.

Waverly had been taught from her earliest years that she couldn’t really rely on anyone – her mother had gone, her father had at best ignored her, and her sisters had had such a tight bond that there had just been no room for her.

And Waverly?

She’d been out in the cold, literally and figuratively, with her imaginary friend.

Until Ward and Willa were gone too, and Wynonna had been sent away over and over again…until she’d finally taken herself away.

Meanwhile, she’d grown up an _Earp_ in a town where that name carried a world of weight behind it – of whispers and suspicions and blame. She’d grown up _with_ Gibsons, sure, but she _was_ an Earp.

And when had Waverly begun to move out from the long shadow of her family’s past, at least as far as Purgatory was concerned? When she’d perfected her smile-and-wave façade – something that was all appearance. Something that bore little scrutiny and left no space for support from (for any _need_ for support from) others.

Waverly had spent so much time and effort trying to be what others wanted – to be no trouble, to harness her innate goodness to be cheerful and helpful and kind even to the detriment of her own needs – that the idea that someone wanted to help _her_?

Not only that, but found it genuinely rewarding to help her?

It was an entirely foreign concept to her.

And while she’d grown so much since Nicole had first met her, this was one area where the old Waverly was still largely the one in charge.

She’d grown into herself, yes – into her place in the world and her power…to the point that she’d actively eschewed the destiny her father had left her to forge her own path.

But she was still a _terrible_ patient.

She found Waverly in the bathroom in about ten different kinds of miseries but what really got her were the tears dripping down her girlf – her _fiancé_ ’s – nose as she held an arm to her ribs as she coughed.

Her self-confidence had taken a whole truckload of hits during the last twenty months…but it was still somewhat – just a little bit – surprising to realize that seeing Waverly in any kind of discomfort broke her.

_Broke_ her.

Waverly had obviously been in there for a while – the mirrors had long since fogged over and the humidity in the room was almost thick enough to touch. It didn’t seem to be helping much, though, because Waverly was still huddled up in a ball on the toilet, coughing up a lung.

“Oh, baby,” Nicole murmured, coming close enough to stand at Waverly’s side and gently rub her back, “you should’ve woken me.”

“I’m okay,” Waverly managed between wracking coughs, before gagging on phlegm and shuddering from head to toe.

“At least there’s no frogs?” Nicole joked weakly, ignoring Waverly’s affectionately exasperated scowl as she pulled her hair back with a hair tie from the sink. She went back and dampened a wash cloth, which she pressed against the back of Waverly’s neck. She radiated heat in a way that was very unusual indeed for someone who tended to run cold, but she nevertheless grabbed the robe in Nicole’s hand and wrapped it loosely around herself.

After a few very uncomfortable minutes, Waverly sighed in relief as she was finally granted some respite – at least enough to get enough breath to talk. “Morning,” she muttered. “Just give me a minute and I’ll – ”

“Waves…you’re sick.”

“No, I’m – I’m fine. It’s just allergies. You know, with the rain yesterday and the snow melting and – ” She coughed again, then added, “Postnasal drip. The steam’s helping.”

Nicole reached into the shower and wasn’t entirely surprised to find that the water was lukewarm at best.

“Honey,” she said, trying out a new term of endearment (she’d made a list, those eighteen months, of all the things she wanted to say to Waverly, including a whole list of new pet names to try out), charmed when Waverly smiled despite herself. “You’re _sick_.”

“No, I’m fine. I just – ” Another coughing fit took hold just as Nicole turned off the water in the shower. “W…wait,” Waverly gasped. “What…?” She trailed off, coughing.

“You used up all the hot water, Waves,” Nicole said, rubbing her back and noting that she’d begun to lean against her hip. It was a small gesture, yes, but it was a sign that Waverly was at least open to some support. “No more hot water, no more steam. Besides, Wynonna went to get you some medicine. How about I make you some tea while we wait?”

“You don’t have to,” Waverly managed before she stifled another cough.

Nicole knelt down and tipped Waverly’s chin up all in one smooth motion. “Hey. What’d you tell me when I apologized for barfing up frogs?”

Waverly sighed, clearly knowing where this was going. “That I like…” A cough. “…taking care of you.”

Nicole didn’t say anything. She just held Waverly’s gaze and let the love in her eyes do her talking for her.

And, sure enough, eventually Waverly’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. Okay. Tea.”

Nicole smiled. “And…?”

She could see that Waverly was _just about_ to try and deny it one more time, but before she could, another coughing spell wracked her body and when it was done, she lifted a shaking hand. “Okay, I’m _sick_. Happy?”

“Of course not. But I’m glad you admitted that so I can spend the next couple of days spoiling the hell out of you.”

Waverly scowled at her, but without much heat, and she allowed Nicole to help her up, tie the robe around her waist, and wrap an arm around her when she couldn’t suppress both a shiver and another cough.

“You can go lay back down if you want,” Nicole said. “I can bring the tea up to you.”

Waverly shook her head stubbornly. “I’m okay, Nicole. I can – ” Another cough. “ – sit in the kitchen while you boil water.”

“Okay,” Nicole said amiably, leaning over to give Waverly a quick kiss on the temple.

Waverly followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table, resting her head wearily on her hand as Nicole filled the kettle and set it on the stove to heat before she sat next to Waverly and curled an arm around her, allowing her to burrow against her side for warmth.

“Morning,” Rachel said around a yawn, making them both jump. Waverly took a breath to reply, but it turned into another body-rattling cough that made Rachel’s eyes widen. “Wow. That sounds…not great.”

“She’s sick,” Nicole said.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I kinda got that idea.” Then she brightened. “Want some kombucha? It’s _great_ for coughs.”

* * *

Nicole dragged a second armful of blankets and pillows into the living room and stoked the fire, creating a warm nest near the armchairs since they hadn’t yet replaced the couch that burned up when –

She winced, cutting the thought off.

She went back into the kitchen, smiling when she saw that Waverly had been able to get down about half of her cup of tea in between coughs. “Hey, cutie,” she said. “I’ve got us a spot all set up to cuddle by the fire if you’re up to it.”

Waverly’s face scrunched, but her protest (“I’m not _that_ – ”) got cut off by another coughing fit that left her wiping sloshed tea off her hand. She rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine.”

Nicole threaded her fingers through Waverly’s hair, encouraging her to lean against Nicole’s strength for a few moments. “I’m sorry. I know you hate being sick.”

“Hmph.”

“Come on,” Nicole urged her, tugging gently on her free hand. “I’ve got all our pillows and a bunch of blankets. It’ll be nice and cozy.” Waverly stayed seated with a frown. “What is it?”

“I…I might actually…be kinda…hot?” Waverly admitted, knowing full well that there was no way she could make any claim to health after _that_.

“Because you’re sick,” Nicole said.

Waverly started to sigh, had to stifle a cough, and then sighed again. “Because I’m sick.”

“Well, let’s just go sit in there and wait for Wynonna to get back with your medicine, okay?”

“I’m not sick enough for – ” Waverly stopped to cough again, then rasped out, “ – medicine.”

“Of course not, baby,” Nicole replied, just glad Waverly had finally stood to follow her into the living room. “But if you don’t take the stuff Wynonna brings, you’ll have no excuse for not drinking any of Rachel’s kombucha.”

Waverly groaned.

* * *

Despite all her protests, it didn’t take long for Waverly to fall into a fitful sleep, curled against Nicole’s warmth. Coughs still rattled her body every few minutes, but she was mostly able to doze through them.

In the past, Nicole might have gotten antsy. She might have eased out from under her and settled her into the nest of pillows and blankets, but instead she was perfectly content to sit there serving as a convenient backrest and heat-sink.

_“You’re touch-starved,” Rachel said as though she were delivering a diagnosis, one day near the end of the nightmare when she’d unthinkingly tapped her on the arm only for Nicole to jump violently, going from breakfast to battle mode in the time it took to leap to her feet._

Nicole wasn’t sure if Rachel had been right, or if she had just been that hair-triggered, or even if it was just that she missed Waverly that desperately, but the truth of the matter was that she was now completely content to just hold Waverly and let her thoughts wander.

She, in fact, eventually drifted off into a warm, relaxed, twilight state somewhere between awake and asleep, only to stir and rub her eyes when she heard Wynonna whispering her name. “Sorry,” she whispered. “You get the medicine?”

“Yeah,” Wynonna said, wincing when Waverly began coughing again. “But the pharmacist said that if it doesn’t help, she probably has bronchitis. Especially since she was barely coughing last night.” She leaned down to help Nicole ease Waverly down onto the pillows. She caught Wynonna smiling gently as Nicole soothed her sick fiancée, stroking her hair and whispering in her ear until she stilled and fell into a deeper sleep. “Jeremy can probably get her some BBD antibiotics.”

Nicole followed Wynonna into the kitchen, helping her sort out the various remedies she’d bought, nodding in approval when she saw several varieties of herbal tea along with cough drops, cough syrup, and both NyQuil and DayQuil. She was putting on another pot of water to boil for more tea when Wynonna commented casually, “You’re not limping today.”

“Huh?”

“Leg feel better?” Wynonna clarified with a slightly perplexed expression that said _get with the program_.

“Oh. Yeah. It’s nothing,” Nicole said, shrugging. “Just the weather turning. Damp days…not my favorites now. But it’s okay. Waves gave me a massage and – ” She cut herself off when she saw Wynonna stiffen. “What?”

“Char…Julian. After he healed you. He was…drained.”

“And?”

“And Waves massaged your sore leg when she had a little cough and the sniffles, and now you look like you could run a marathon and she sounds like death warmed over.”

“Yeah, but – ”

“And I bet if we x-rayed your leg now, it would look like it was never broken in the first place. You saw Mercedes’s face. It was _perfect_.”

Nicole glanced towards the living room, where Waverly was coughing violently again. Her shoulders slumped.

It was her fault.

Just like everything else.

Because she’d stood on that damn grate instead of jumping off it when she pushed Wynonna out of the way. Because she’d broken her damn leg and couldn’t go into the Garden with Wynonna. Because she hadn’t thought quickly enough, hadn’t reacted quickly enough, hadn’t –

“Hey!” Wynonna barked. “Knock it off! I can hear you yelling at yourself from here. Quit it.”

“But I – ”

Wynonna shook her head, coming closer to grab Nicole by the upper arms. “You survived. You were here. You waited. And now you’re gonna marry my baby sister. You don’t get to be mean to yourself.” Nicole sighed, breaking eye contact with a frown. “Come on. What would Waves do if she caught you doing this to yourself?”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Nothing I want _you_ to do.”

Wynonna mock winced. “Gross, dude,” she muttered, but smiled when Nicole chuckled at her, her dark mood evaporating at least for the moment.

* * *

By the next night, it seemed as though the worst was over.

That first day would always be a blur to both of them. Nicole had spent most of it sitting with Waverly curled up against her, which was the only position she could get any rest in because whenever she laid down, her cough would just get worse. Nicole had dozed when she could, but in truth, she always had half an ear tuned to make sure Waverly was still breathing.

Waverly, exhausted and sore from coughing, was once again ensconced in the little nest Nicole had constructed next to the fire, carefully sipping a mug full of vegetable broth. They’d sent Jeremy to BBD for some antibiotics the day before, and he’d come back with what he assured Waverly were the strongest they had. They did seem to be helping; though it had recurred and broken a few times during the day, Waverly’s fever was slowly abating, and she was regularly being given respites from the coughing that lasted minutes rather than seconds.

Nicole was nursing her own mug of soup, hers including some vegetables and orzo, both of which Waverly had eschewed out of fear she would start coughing and choke. Across from them, Wynonna and Rachel were sitting with their own dinners.

The room felt warm and…full…in a way that at one dark moment in her life Nicole had despaired of ever experiencing again. And while she would take the ache in her leg in exchange for Waverly’s health without a second’s thought, she couldn’t deny that this moment felt pretty damn near perfect.

Waverly set her cup down and squirmed around a bit before settling back into Nicole’s arms and resting her head against her collarbone. “Thanks, Wynonna,” she rasped, wincing against the ache in her throat.

“For dinner? Thank Smalldez over here. She’s the one who made it. I just provided…helpful commentary.”

“For certain specific definitions of ‘helpful,’” Rachel muttered, but she couldn’t help but grin a little.

“Oh,” Waverly said. “Sorry. Thanks. For putting up with her,” she added with a sly grin in Wynonna’s direction.

“Oh, please. You two and your constant – ” Wynonna made a vague hand gesture. “– have gotta be way worse than a few cooking tips.”

Rachel stared at her. “You didn’t actually give me any cooking tips, and I just leave when they start that.”

“Outsmarted by a seventeen-year-old,” Wynonna mock grumbled.

Waverly yawned, resting her head against Nicole’s shoulder, though she did manage a smile at Wynonna and Rachel’s antics. Nicole instinctively ran her fingers through Waverly’s hair, brushing a kiss against her forehead. She was delighted to find that it was only very slightly warm to the touch. “You wanna try laying down?” Nicole asked.

Waverly nodded sleepily.

“Here, Baby Girl,” Wynonna said, handing her a small cup full of green liquid. “It’s a little early, but maybe you’ll get some sleep this way.”

Waverly shuddered as she gulped down the medicine in one draught. “Gah,” she said. “That’s _awful_.”

“Huh,” Wynonna said, sniffing the cup. “I kinda like it.”

“Yeah, well,” Nicole said as she helped Waverly to her feet, “you like ouzo, so….”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Wynonna said. “We all know how you feel about licorice, but _some_ of us happen to think it tastes good.”

She helped Waverly up the stairs while the others brought up all the blankets and pillows, sitting with her as she caught her breath before changing into clean pajamas. Nicole quickly shucked her own t-shirt and yoga pants in favor of shorts and a tank top she wore against the heat from Waverly’s mountain of blankets. She set a few extra bonus blankets at the foot of the bed in case Waverly’s fever broke entirely or if the chills returned, then leaned up against the headboard and pulled Waverly close.

She exhaled carefully, still leery of triggering a coughing spell, then glanced up. “Thanks for taking such good care of me.”

“Always,” Nicole said, resting her cheek against the top of Waverly’s hair. “Besides, aren’t we about to promise ‘in sickness and in health’?”

Waverly smiled, glowing as she always did whenever they talked about their upcoming wedding, and looked up to catch Nicole’s eye. “You know, it’s funny,” she said. “I was _so_ scared to say ‘I love you’…and now? It doesn’t feel like enough. ‘I love you’ isn’t strong enough for how I feel.”

Nicole swallowed hard. “That’s exactly the way I feel,” she whispered. “God, Waves…I never….” She sighed. “I always thought the whole soulmates thing was nonsense…but when you were…gone…it really was like part of me was missing. Like I wasn’t…me.” She kissed Waverly’s temple. “I more-than-love you, Waverly Earp.”

She reached up to trace a line down Nicole’s jaw. “Wish I felt better,” she muttered with a short laugh. “And I’m sorry you had to just sit with me the last couple of days. It had to be pretty boring.”

But Nicole shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not.” She pulled Waverly close again, her eyes drifting off into the past. “I promised myself that when you came back, I wouldn’t let any moments…just go by. That I’d be here…be grateful…for every single second we have together. We lost so many.”

“Yeah.” Waverly looked up at her, love and sympathy in her eyes in equal measure. “We gotta make the ones we’ve got count.”

* * *

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Nicole asked one last time as she laced up her shoes.

“I’ll be fine,” Waverly said. Her fever had been gone now for nearly twelve hours, and though she still had a bad cough, it was almost manageable. “Your legs were jiggling every time I woke up, honey. You’re not made to sit all day like you have been. Go.”

“I’ll be fast,” Nicole promised. “Just a lap around the perimeter of the Homestead. Okay? And I’ll have my phone and – ”

“Nicole. It’s okay. Go. Go for your run. Do two laps if you want to.”

Nicole sighed. “Okay. See you soon,” she added, leaning down to give Waverly a quick kiss before leaving with visible reluctance.

Waverly watched her go with a slightly wistful smile, aching for the lingering wounds in Nicole’s psyche that she could still see plain as day.

By the time Nicole came back, she’d migrated down to the nest Nicole had made for her by the fire. She was trying to read, but her mind was drifting and she couldn’t hold a thought long enough to stick with any book, let alone read one in Latin. She sighed when she realized she had no recollection of anything in the last ten pages or so and put the book down just as Nicole came inside.

“Hey!” Waverly said. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Nicole admitted, coming to sit in the armchair facing the fire. “You were right. I needed that. I, uh, I did three laps. Probably could have done two or three more but it started to drizzle.”

Her breathing had already steadied out, but her hair was wind-mussed and her face had a healthy glow to it that made Waverly smile. “I’m glad.” She stopped to suppress a cough, then added, “I’m getting a little antsy too. Maybe we can go for a walk later?”

Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “Just to the barn and back.”

“That far?”

“Waves – ”

“No, it’s okay. If we went too far and I got tired, you’d want to carry me back, and I don’t think you could with your leg hurting you like it was.” Then she frowned, her thoughts belatedly catching up with her mouth. “Wait. Nicole. Your bad leg…how did you…?”

“Oh, it’s fine now,” Nicole said, her eyes skittering away nervously in a way that reminded Waverly very much of when she’d first come back. It must have reminded Nicole too, because she sighed and made deliberate, if hesitant, eye contact. “Wynonna noticed the other day. She thinks that’s why you got sick.”

Nicole tried to be off-hand, but Waverly could see what even the thought was costing her. Making a mental note to yell at Wynonna later, she pushed herself to her feet and walked over to take Nicole’s hands. “She said _what_?!”

“When she brought your medicine. She noticed I wasn’t limping like I was the night before.”

“So?” Waverly saw Nicole flinch at the vehemence in her voice, even though it wasn’t directed at her, and consciously softened her body language, running her fingers through Nicole’s hair. “What does that have to do with me being sick?”

“You were barely sniffling that night. Wynonna…reminded me…that Julian…was drained. Like he used up all his energy. When he…saved me. And we….I…thought that when you massaged my leg that – ”

“So?” Waverly asked again, but much softer and more gently. “You’re saying that you might not have to deal with a lifetime of pain every time the weather turns in exchange for me being sick for a few days? Baby, I’d make that deal any day of the week.”

Nicole’s head shot up and she gaped at Waverly in wordless astonishment.

It made Waverly smile – gently, and a little wistfully, but still, as she took a moment to think about how their roles had reversed.

“Think about it,” she said quietly, sitting on Nicole’s lap to hide the shakiness in her legs. “You’re here feeling bad because you’d rather hurt forever than me be sick, right?” When Nicole shrugged, she smiled. “Sweetie-pie. Think about that for a second. You’re willing to hurt _forever_ to spare me a few days of coughing. Why wouldn’t I take those couple days of coughing to spare you a lifetime of pain? Why wouldn’t I make that deal in a hot second?”

After a long moment, Nicole’s eyes warmed and she smiled. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Waverly whispered. “It’s okay. Just…remember I love you, okay? Even when that little voice in your head is being mean to you.” Nicole nodded. “I’ll keep reminding you. Just like you always do for me.”

“Okay.”

“That’s better,” Waverly said.

They sat there for a while. Waverly let her attention drift, other than focusing on breathing steadily so she didn’t trigger a coughing spell. After a bit, Nicole pulled her closer and rested her head on top of Waverly’s, lacing their fingers together with a small smile. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you too, baby. And I love that you love me even when I desperately need to wash my hair.”

Nicole grinned. “I could help with that, you know.”

“Not sure I can stand up that long yet,” Waverly admitted. “It’s just so _tangled_.” She ran her fingers through Nicole’s hair. “I love this look on you…but you have to admit that’s one _huge_ advantage of short hair.”

“You could cut yours,” Nicole said with a shrug. “I think you’d look beautiful with short hair.”

“Really?”

“Well, you’re always beautiful to me, but – ” Nicole cut herself off with a smile when Waverly rolled her eyes. “Can’t hurt to try it out if you want to. It’ll grow back if you don’t like it.” She gave Waverly a little squeeze. “Meanwhile, let me go get a brush and I’ll see if I can untangle this rat’s nest for you.”

By the time she’d finished Waverly’s hair – tying it all back into a French braid to keep it out of Waverly’s eyes and untangled until she could manage a shower – Waverly was only half-awake, sitting on the floor slumped against her calves with her eyes half-closed. “Mmm, don’t stop,” she protested in a mumble as she heard Nicole set the brush down.

“Sorry, baby,” Nicole said, sliding out of her seat and onto the floor next to Waverly before pulling her into her arms again. “All done with your hair.”

Waverly’s eyes drifted closed and then open again, but even so, she couldn’t keep them focused and eventually gave up and curled back against Nicole with a sigh.

* * *

She woke the next morning feeling almost herself, and made a note to thank Jeremy for getting her the industrial strength antibiotics he’d acquired from BBD. She rolled onto her side, smiling as she watched Nicole sleeping peacefully next to her.

They’d gotten used to the Bulshar nightmares – even Wynonna had heard them, sometimes – but Nicole’s dreams had obviously changed over her time in the Garden, and while she was gradually recovering, her sleep was still often interrupted by dreams that left her shakily brushing her fingers across Waverly’s cheek.

_“Are you r-real?”_

Nicole had also asked her that in a text right after their first heated, wonderful, exhilarating, terrifying moments in Nedley’s office – and several times throughout their relationship after that – like she genuinely couldn’t believe her luck.

_“Know what makes you guys good?” Wynonna had said once, out of the blue, over dinner at the Homestead on a night when Nicole was working late. “You both think you won the lottery when you found each other. ‘Course, Nicole’s the one who’s right,” Wynonna had added out of sisterly loyalty._

Waverly smiled at the memory, her eyes caressing Nicole’s peacefully sleeping face one last time before Nicole sensed the attention, her eyes slowly opening and tracking to Waverly’s. She brightened as soon as their eyes met. “Morning, sweetie,” Waverly said, leaning over to give Nicole a quick kiss. “Sleep okay?”

Nicole stretched. “Yeah. You?”

Waverly shrugged. “I don’t remember waking up, but I found a cough drop on my pillow, so….” She smiled into Nicole’s answering good-morning kiss. “I think I could handle a shower now. Want to join me?”

They ran into both Rachel and Wynonna as they headed together towards the bathroom. Before Wynonna could say a word, Rachel took her firmly by the elbow and pulled her towards the front door. “Time to leave,” she said, ignoring Wynonna’s outraged squawking as she dragged her away. “You’ll thank me later,” she muttered over Wynonna’s continued protests.

Waverly leaned against Nicole, stifling a laugh. They stood there for a few moments to make sure Wynonna wouldn’t make a break for it and come back, then went inside the bathroom together.

“You know,” Nicole said as she turned on the water, “while you were gone, I hated how _empty_ it was here…but now?” She turned with a truly wicked grin. “Gotta say…I do like it when we’re alone in the house.”

Waverly chuckled, coming closer. “Think Wynonna knows her room’s the only one we haven’t – ”

Nicole cut her off with a kiss. “Waves?” she murmured right against Waverly’s lips. “I love her and all, but…let’s stop talking about Wynonna.”

Waverly grinned into their next kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I doubt we'll ever get any sort of actual explanation of how Waverly's angel powers work (other than "don't threaten Nicole around Waverly if you don't want your face melted")...but I *also* doubt there will be any mention of the kinds of lingering issues you'd have from breaking your leg in three places. 
> 
> So, in my own head, what I worked out is that she doesn't really have control of it. The face-melting is obviously an anger response -- but her healing of Mercedes came from a place of compassion *and without her knowing she did it*. Charlie/Julian obviously had finer control but he's not around to teach her how, so....
> 
> In any event, as we say goodbye to 2020: this year has been ridiculous and exhausting. I've had to change up how I teach three times and am facing a fourth revamping of my entire routine come January. I've read scary articles about how bad COVID-19 can be for someone with Down syndrome and have spent hours worrying about my brother catching it. I've watched people in my life make unfortunate choices about how much risk they're willing to take. 
> 
> It's been a lot, is all I'm saying -- and my kudos emails and review emails and notifications have been a bright spot in a world that very often lacked any.
> 
> So thank you all for that tiny bit of light in the dark. Here's to 2021.
> 
> (If you can put up with weekly "Star Trek" babbles -- mostly "Discovery" but I also just re-started a project of watching all of "Star Trek" in airdate order, not just the old favorites -- along with teaching stuff and disability related stuff along with "Wynonna Earp" live tweeting thanks to a VPN making SyFy think I'm in NYC, feel free to look me up on Twitter @spoowriter. (The "spoo" is a "Babylon 5" thing, in case you were wondering about my nerd bona fides. The "writer" should be obvious. The earliest sample of my writing my mom kept was a story I wrote in kindergarten about, I kid you not, the oldest Brady Bunch kid going off to college.))


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